


Are You Sure?

by shamelesstravesties



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, because mickey is really bad at keeping secrets, ian has no idea what's going on, nervous mickey, oh well, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 00:35:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5071114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelesstravesties/pseuds/shamelesstravesties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey's been acting off, and Ian's worried that he's planning on breaking up with him. He actually couldn't be further from the truth - Mickey's just kind of shitty at explaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Sure?

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr y'all! @talkingtravesties

Mickey’s being weird.

  
Ian started noticing it a couple days ago. When he wakes up in the morning, Mickey’s not pressed up beside him—which is unusual in a multitude of ways, the least of which being that Ian always wakes up first.

  
He’s defensive as hell, too. Ian can be asking him anything—like “whatcha doing?” or “hey, what’s up?”—and Mickey will instantly put up his walls.  
Truthfully, it worries Ian.

  
It’s the umpteenth morning that he wakes up without Mickey’s warm body against him. The worst part is that he’s no longer surprised. He sighs heavily before swinging his legs over the bed and padding out of what once was Frank’s—and then Lip’s, and now his and Mickey’s—bedroom.

“Morning, Ian!” Debbie greets him cheerfully, as she exists the bathroom.

“Hey.” he responds in a dead tone, closing the bathroom door after he enters.

He peels off what little clothes he’s wearing and steps into the shower. He tries to wash off all the doubt and worry he’s feeling with the bullets of scalding water, but instead, the time under the shower-head with nothing to distract him simply makes his mind whir even more.  
He starts to think Mickey’s pissed at him, or, even worse, if he’s doubting their relationship.

Ian always knew this would eventually happen. They had been together for so long and maybe the sense of calm that had settled over them was starting to get…boring for Mickey. Maybe this was Mickey’s way of slowly pulling away.

Ian shuts off the water. This obviously isn’t helping.

He sighs and grabs for a towel, his stomach in uncomfortably tight knots by the time he walks down to the kitchen.

When he enters, Lip and Mickey are seated at the table, speaking in hushed whispers, yet obviously arguing.  
Complete silence falls over them when they see Ian, and he clenches his jaw.

Seriously? Lip knows what’s going on and he doesn’t?

“Hey, Ian!” Lip says, in an obnoxiously positive voice.

Ian doesn’t respond. He’s angry, but he also knows his anger is covering up how anxious he really is.

Mickey won’t even look at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Ian grunts as he pours himself a cup of lukewarm coffee.

After a pause, Lip answers. “Spring break.” Ian’s had enough, and he slams the pot of coffee roughly on to the counter.

“Jesus!” Lip yells in surprise.

“Your spring break was two weeks ago.” Ian snaps and storms back up the stairs, the mug of coffee in his hand spilling slightly over his fingers.

He wants to fucking hit something.  
He knew Mickey was hiding something from him, but until now, he could hold onto the hope that Mickey just didn’t want to talk about it yet, that he was still figuring it our for himself.  
He definitely didn’t fucking expect Lip to know before him.

Ian can’t even deny how nervous he is anymore.  
It confirms what he was most worried about—this is about him.  
He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to imagine all the possible reasons for all this weirdness and secrecy.

Frustrated, Ian starts to get changed. If they’re going to be weird and secretive around him, then fine—he’s just going to leave.  
When he shuffles back down the stairs, Mickey and Lip are in exactly the same position as when Ian left them.

He scowls at the sight of them and heads straight for the door.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lip calls after him.

“None of your fucking business!” Ian yells back, without turning to look at him.

He leaves in anger, slamming the door behind him.  
He heads where he knows he’ll be talked to like a normal person, something he’s really craving right now.  
He only has to knock twice before the door opens to reveal Mandy in a tank top and shorts. She obviously just woke up.

“Hey,” she says, her voice betraying surprise.

“Sorry, I should’ve called.” Ian says, feeling a little bad. It’s not Mandy’s fault that Mickey’s being so unlike himself.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Mandy shrugs, and moves aside to let Ian in.

“So what’s up?” she asks, casually dropping onto the couch and putting her feet on the table.

“Your brother’s being cagey.” Ian mutters, taking a seat in the armchair.

“How come whenever he fucks up, he’s just my brother? He’s your boyfriend, too.” Mandy snickers.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” Ian mumbles under his breath.

“What?” Mandy asks, sharply, her smile dissipating.

Ian sighs, and voices for the first time the worry that’s been eating at his brain for the past several days.

“I think he’s breaking up with me.”

Saying it out loud feels like a fuckton of bricks just cascaded onto him from the sky. He chews on the inside of his cheek, desperately trying to keep himself composed.

“What?” Mandy repeats, this time almost yelling. “What the fuck makes you think that? Mickey’s fucking crazy about you.”

Ian shakes his head, now feeling the inside of his mouth start to bleed—he’s chewing that hard.

“He doesn’t even look at me anymore, Mandy.” Ian manages and swallows hard, letting anger take over. It’s so much easier to be pissed off than to accept how absolutely terrified he is.

“Ian…” Mandy whispers, looking at Ian with a scared look on his face. “Maybe he’s just…worried about something. You know Mickey, he’s too fucking stubborn to ask for help.”

Ian just shakes his head again.

“Then why’d he fucking tell Lip?” he demands, and Mandy doesn’t have an answer.

Instead, she just says, tentatively. “Are…are you sure?”

“We haven’t fucked in a week.” Ian snorts, derisively, but Mandy’s known him too long to be fooled by that.

Not knowing how else to cheer him up, Mandy stands up and slides in next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He stiffens at first, but then relaxes and wraps his arm around her and leans his head softly against hers.  
Mandy feels the wetness of Ian’s eyes against her temple, and she just holds him tighter.

When Ian finally leaves the Milkovich house, he feels drained. He ended up crying after all, and now that he did, he doesn’t know what to feel.  
So he walks home with his hands in his pockets, unsure of what he’s going to do when he gets home. Maybe he can just fake sick and go straight to bed. He can’t face Mickey, at least not the Mickey he’s been living with the past few days. It just hurts too much.

When he walks into the house, he finds it surprisingly empty. He only sees Mickey, who’s pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

“Where is everyone?” Ian mumbles quietly. He’s not expecting an answer. Mickey won’t even look at him these days.

Mickey stops short of his pacing when he hears Ian’s voice, and looks up.

“Out.” he says. It’s only one word, but it’s more than Ian’s heard in a while, and he stares up at him and finds familiar blue eyes looking back.

“Where?” Ian asks, hoping to hear Mickey talk again. He takes a few experimental steps forward.

Mickey swipes at his lip with his thumb.

“Carl’s doing his community service shit.” he pauses. “Fiona’s off with whatever asshole she’s doing these days. Lip’s back at fuckin’ Harvard or whatever and I think Debbie took Liam to—”

Ian doesn’t let him finish. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly Mickey’s talking to him and looking at him and the eye contact alone makes Ian almost frantic.

He lunges at Mickey, who stumbles backwards at first, but then responds to him, wrapping his arms around Ian’s waist.  
Ian’s kissing him like they’re going to die tomorrow, like Mickey’s lips are oxygen and Ian’s suffocating.

Pressing his tongue along Mickey’s bottom lip, Ian feels a desperate sound die in Mickey’s throat and pulls at his shirt, impatiently trying to get it off.

“Ian.” Mickey mumbles half-heartedly against Ian’s mouth.

Ian ignores him and latches his mouth and teeth onto the pale skin of Mickey’s neck. He hears the sharp intake of breath from above and sucks harder.

“Ian, stop—” Mickey breathes, and starts to push Ian off of him. “Ian, we can’t…”

Ian pulls away. “Why the fuck not?”

Mickey looks at him, and Ian can see him struggling to come up with an answer.

He just shakes his head, incredulous, and turns to walk off.

“Ian, fuck, hang on!” Mickey calls after him, but Ian doesn’t want to hear it.

He flies up the stars and into their room, slamming the door behind him.

He hates this. He hates being the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. He hates how distant and secretive Mickey’s being. Most of all, he hates all the guessing and waiting and wondering. But beyond how angry he is, he’s scared—and he’s in pain.

He’s scared of what all this means, and a part of him keeps telling him that this is it, this is the end.

Imagining him and Mickey being over, really being over—Ian feels his eyes start to water for the second time today.

It’s right then that Mickey opens the door and walks in. Ian quickly wipes at his eyes, but he’s as obvious as his red hair.

“Ian,” Mickey starts, sitting down next to him on the bed.

Ian swallows, trying to regain his composure.

“If you’re gonna break up with me, just do it.” Ian says, squeezing his eyes shut fiercely.

“What the fuck?” Mickey exclaims, and Ian’s eyes shoot open to look at him. Mickey looks absolutely thrown. “Why the fuck would you think I’m breaking up with you?”

Ian stares at him, disbelievingly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ian demands. “You’ve barely said three fucking words to me this week.”

“Yeah, but—” Mickey starts, but now that Ian’s gotten started, he’s not about to stop.

“You’re never here when I wake up, you barely look at me, you’re talking to Lip behind my fucking back, pacing around the kitchen like a fucking psycho, what am I supposed to think?” He yells, losing all sense of calm he had managed to maintain.

Mickey just stares at him with wide eyes, like he’s only just realized he’s been doing all that.

“Forget it.” Ian says, leaning back against the headboard. He feels Mickey looking at him, but he can’t meet his gaze. He wishes Mickey would just tell him what the fuck is going on.

“Ian, uh…” Mickey’s stuttering. “Fuck, this isn’t how this was supposed to go…What-what are you…fucking shit, I had this planned, I—fuck…what-what are you, um, doing?”

Ian looks at him with raised eyebrows.

“What am I doing? Sitting here trying to figure out what the fuck’s up with you.”

“No, I mean…shit.” Mickey looks quite distressed, and rubs at his eyes. “With…I mean, like…for your life.”

At this point, Ian has absolutely no idea what’s happening. What is Mickey even trying to say here?

“You want to know what I’m doing for the rest of my life?” Ian’s so confused he forgets to even sound angry, and quickly snorts to cover up his mishap. “How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Do you know what you’re doing for the rest of your life?”

“Spending it with you, dumbass.” Mickey doesn’t even hesitate with his answer, and Ian is too shocked to come up with a retort. He just stares at Mickey, trying to make sense of him.

“But…what?” Ian fumbles over his words, and Mickey smiles a little.

“Yeah, you totally ruined the moment.” Mickey jokes, punching Ian lightly on the shoulder.

“What moment?” Ian squints at him, determined to get proper answers now.

Mickey laughs. “Jesus, fuck, Ian. Really gonna make me spell the fuckin’ thing out?”

“Yes, because I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Ian exclaims.

“I want us to fuckin’ get hitched, okay?” Mickey shoots back, just as loud, and then immediately looks away, biting down on his lip, pink creeping up his neck.

There’s an excruciatingly long moment of silence. It’s probably only about fifteen to twenty seconds, but to Mickey it feels like hours.

“Would you fuckin’ say something?” he mumbles, glancing up at Ian for a split second before casting his eyes downward again.

“You want to get married?” Ian asks, trying to make sure he heard right.

“Well, yeah.” Mickey jerks his shoulder upwards in a little half-shrug.

“Thought it was just a fucking piece of paper.” Ian says, still somewhat skeptical.

Mickey finally meets Ian’s eyes properly.

“Not to you.” he responds.

There’s a few seconds of stillness as Ian digests this, and then launches himself at Mickey. This time, there’s no resistance. Mickey takes Ian’s face into his hands and kisses him fully, a quiet moan spilling out when Ian softly bites and pulls on his bottom lip.

“Is that a yes?” Mickey breathes against Ian’s mouth, peppering small kisses on the side of his lips.

Ian lets out a breathless laugh. “Fuck yes.”

He leans forward, forcing Mickey to fall back, and slowly plants open-mouth kiss across Mickey’s jaw, thoroughly enjoying the way Mickey’s breath catches in his throat. He slides his hand up Mickey’s shirt, his cool hand burning on Mickey’s warm skin.  
Ian moves his mouth to Mickey’s neck. Though he’ll never admit it, Ian knows how much that turns Mickey on. He’s sure to keep it slow, and alternates between sucking fiercely on the skin and softly flicking his tongue out over it.

“Ian.” Mickey growls. “Come the fuck on.”

 Ian bites his teeth down, and Mickey yelps slightly.

“Hey, what was that for?” He asks.

“Shut up.” Ian warns him. “I want to remember this.”

“And you can’t remember if you speed the fuck up?”

“Hey!” Ian scolds, holding himself up above Mickey. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Mickey grins. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. C’mere, Gallagher.”

He juts his chin up in a ‘come closer’ kind of gesture, and Ian about loses his mind.

“Smug asshole.” Ian mutters, smirking, and in a swift movement, rips open the buttons of Mickey’s shirt, and before he can say another word, shoves his hand down Mickey’s jeans. Mickey lets out an involuntary gasp, and grips onto the back of Ian’s neck, pulling his boyfriend—fiancé—’s face to his own.

“If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right.” Mickey says, and it’s barely a whisper. He’s already breathing heavier, as Ian’s hand has a firm grasp of his dick and is pumping it at an agonizingly slow pace.

“You talking about the fucking or the getting married thing?” Ian murmurs back, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Both.” Mickey breathes back. “But if you wanna fuck me slow, you better fuck me hard.”

Ian’s smirk breaks into an all out grin, and he runs his free hand down Mickey’s torso with a feather-light touch, noticing how goosebumps immediately arise on Mickey’s arms.

“One thing though.” Ian says, speeding up his pace and causing Mickey’s breathing to quicken.

“What?” Mickey barely manages.

Ian leans down and nips at Mickey’s earlobe before gently breathing in his ear, “I want to look at you when I fuck you.”

Mickey’s lungs nearly explode.

*

When Ian and Mickey finally emerge from upstairs, all of the Gallaghers seem to be waiting for them. They act like they’re not, of course, hastily covering up with chatter, but Ian knows better.

“Nice of you two to join us.” Lip says with a characteristic smirk. “Didn’t think to consider other people live in this house?”

Ian feels his face flush a little, but Mickey immediately retorts. “Ey, as far as we knew, no one was home, dickwad.”

“Sounded like it.” Debbie comments slyly to Lip and Fiona shoots them both that look—the one that they know means business.

“So, why did we have to sit here and wait for them again?” Carl asks, clearly not having been paying attention to the conversation, as everyone immediately turns to glare at him for giving them away.

“Ah, fuck it, the little shit is right, why we here acting like someone died?” V chips in and then her eyes grow wide. “Shit, please tell me somebody ain’t dead.”

Fiona laughs. “As far as I know, no one’s dead, though we can always hope someone finally took Frank out. But don’t ask me, I don’t know anything. Lip just told me Ian and Mickey had some big news and to all come over.”

Mickey gives Lip a look so cold it could freeze the Bahamas. Ian just raises his eyebrows and gives a little chuckle.

“So Lip knew, huh?” he asks, turning to Mickey.

Mickey fidgets slightly, forcing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, clearly getting slightly uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, see…I wanted to ask, you know, like, if it was okay. And I was gonna ask Fiona, but then…” he trails off, looking like he’d rather someone put a bullet in his skull than continue on in this conversation.

“Is that what you guys were fighting about the other day?” Ian asks, looking amusedly from Mickey to Lip.

Lip shrugs. “I wasn’t too fond of the idea at first.”

“At first?” Ian asks, and Lip’s about to answer when V chimes in again.

“Okay, hold the fuck up, somebody better tell me what the fuck’s going on, because if you Gallaghers waste another one of my Friday nights, I swear to god—”  
She doesn’t get to finish her threat. She doesn’t need to.

“We’re getting married.” Ian announces loudly over her.

There’s a long moment of silence as everyone seems to digest this. Ian can practically hear Mickey’s racing heartbeat from beside him.

“You’re—what?” Fiona’s the first to break the silence, looking up at Ian and Mickey with confusion etched all over her face. It’s mostly directed at Mickey.

He sighs a little, but when he turns to look at Ian, and sees his big, dumb smile, he can’t help but smile as well. He reaches out and takes Ian’s hand in his own.

“Yep, you heard it. Gettin’ hitched, tyin’ the knot, whatever the fuck you wanna call it.”

There’s another beat, and then everyone loses their shit.

Kevin barks out a huge booming laugh and walks over with arms open wide. V lets out a whoop and a cackle and a “who would’ve fuckin’ thought?” to her best friend, who is still practically breathless with disbelief, but whose expression of confusion seems to have turned to one of bemused joy. Debbie and Liam are freaking out and jumping up and down, Carl grins widely and begins asking if this means Mickey can teach him how to shoot, and Lip just sits at the table, smirking at all of them, but secretly shooting Ian a genuine smile and a nod.

Like all Gallagher get-togethers, it quickly turns into a party, as someone starts the music, and Kevin brings out the booze, and everyone begins celebrating Ian and Mickey’s engagement—although, Ian and Mickey will admit it: the Gallaghers will use any excuse to have a party.

At some point, Ian manages to pull himself away from his family, long enough to find Mickey and take him aside for a moment alone.

“Are you okay?” he immediately asks, looking worried.

Mickey furrows his eyebrows at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Ian shrugs, looking down, away from Mickey’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

Mickey smiles a little, and cups Ian’s face in his hands, gently bringing it up so their eyes meet again.

“I’m sure about you. I’ll always be sure about you.”


End file.
